


When I Lifted My Eyes to Your Name

by lostlenore



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: F/F, Holiday Fic Exchange
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-24
Updated: 2013-11-24
Packaged: 2018-01-02 13:44:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1057452
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lostlenore/pseuds/lostlenore
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Elena seduces Mithian into staying for Thanksgiving, then fails at cooking the turkey.</p>
            </blockquote>





	When I Lifted My Eyes to Your Name

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Emjayelle](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emjayelle/gifts).



> Written for the lovely Emjayelle. I hope it's something like what you asked for. Thank you to Iggy, for the quick beta, and to the new mods for deciding to continue hosting this fest. Title is from Pablo Neruda's 100 love sonnets.
> 
> Bonus fanmix can be downloaded [here](https://www.mediafire.com/folder/tgrvgdn9vrct9/mhols%20fanmix)

_“Then love knew it was called love._  
 _And when I lifted my eyes to your name,_  
 _suddenly your heart showed me my way”_  
-Pablo Neruda

After a week of feverish cramming for the exam from hell, Mithian stumbled back into the apartment feeling not unlike she’d been run over by a mac truck.

“Well howdy stranger,” came the greeting from the couch. “Haven’t seen you around here in a while. I’d almost forgotten what you looked like,” Elena said softly, winding her arms around Mithian’s neck and pressing a warm kiss to her temple. She looked frayed, her hair sticking up in all directions like a haystack and a pen tucked behind both her ears, but she was still capable of stringing words together, so of the two of them she was the better off, really.

“I don’t remember when I slept here last,” Mithian groaned. “I don’t actually remember the last time I slept at all.” She let Elena untangle the scarf around her neck, and strip the bursting bag of law textbooks from her back. Elena smelled like laundry detergent and the perfume Mithian had given her for her birthday, a soft, sweet vanilla. She hated how she’d already forgotten it, how while she'd been holed up in the library desperately reviewing for finals in a haze of caffeine and sleeplessness, her brain had written bylaws and statutes over the exact curve of Elena's hips, and the bow of her mouth.

"'M home," she said, muffled by Elena's hair.

“Shhh, let’s get your shoes off before you crash. God, how did you even find your way home?”

“Mmmfp” said Mithian and collapsed onto her shoulder.

Law school would be the death of her.  
____

 

The light had shifted the next time she woke up, not that it took long for it to get dark with the winter darkness now eating up the daylight. Through the strips in the curtains she saw snow was falling thick and fast outside the window. Even less incentive to move from her position on the couch. Elena was crammed behind her on the sofa with her face mashed into crook of Mithian’s neck, so Mithian could feel a small gust of warm breath every time she exhaled. There was a pen still stuck behind her ear.

She wiggled a hand out from under them and removed the pen, which had left little dots of ink against her skin. The apartment was silent enough that Mithian could hear the gurgle of the pipes and whirring of the radiator. She let herself drift in the quiet for a few moments before shaking Elena awake.

“Nope. Go back to sleep. We’re sleeping now, we’ve earned it,” Elena mouthed against her neck. She shifted until both her hands were flat against the small of Mithian’s back

“You’re going to cripple yourself sleeping on this couch,” Mithian managed with great difficulty. “Up, up, up.”

She chivvied Elena off the couch and over to the bed. She was loathe to move; Elena’s mouth on her neck has always been an incredibly persuasive argument. But she let out a sigh of relief when she sunk back onto the mattress, her spine feeling like it was finally decompressing from the weight of finals when she stretched her fingertips towards the headboard. Elena settled back against her and dropped off within minutes. Mithian watched her face go slack and her breathing even out once more, like maybe she hadn’t slept well either, without Mithian there. The thought made her feel guilty, so she wrapped a hand around Elena’s waist and pulled them flush against each other before she could no longer keep her eyes open and nodded off once more.

_____

The second time she woke, it was to a low rumbling sound and a laugh in her ear.

“I’m _starving_. It’s two in the morning and I could eat an actual horse.”

Mithian sighed. Now that she was awake she realized that she was hungry too. She racked her brain for something they might have in the pantry that wasn’t Lucky Charms or instant ramen.

“And you know what I want? Pancakes. For some reason I am craving pancakes, and I will give you a kiss for each pancake you make me,” Elena said, extremely serious for someone with such truly tragic bedhead.

Mithian pretended to consider this. “With tongue?”

“Only if they have chocolate chips.”

Mithian made enough chocolate chip pancakes to feed an army. Most of them ended up rather burnt while Elena distracted Mithian with her mouth, but neither Elena nor Mithian particularly minded. Elena ate her weight in pancakes, Mithian not far behind after a week of living off coffee and granola bars, and they lay slumped along the base of the couch for a good while.

"I saved you the last two episodes of Psychic Pets," Elena said after they could move again.

"I knew there was a reason I loved you," Mithian said drowsily, and leaned over to kiss her. She tasted syrupy-sweet.

They made it through half an episode of a golden retriever who could sense ghosts until the kisses, which had been getting progressively sloppier as the night wore on, devolved into groping.

“I approve of where this is headed, but you might need to speed things along. Your flight leaves in,” Elena checked the clock, “four hours. Damn. You should probably get packing.”

She looked wistful, a bit of sadness lingered around the curve of her lips.

“I…I’ve been thinking,” Mithian said, because ever since she’d woken up on the couch earlier all she could think about was how much she had missed this. How with work, and school, and friends, there never seemed to be enough time for the two of them.

“What if I didn’t have to go?” she blurted, and hurried on. “I mean, it’s only three days, my parents were up here to visit just last month. I just- I haven’t really been around much, lately, and I miss you. I want to stay here.” She looked up at Elena, who was trying unsuccessfully to tamp down the huge grin spreading across her face.

“I'm in favor of that. I always want you to stay,” was all the warning she received before Elena tackled her back onto the floor and kissed her hard and determined, as if to make sure she stayed. Mithian kissed her back just as fiercely, and when she found herself lying down red-faced and gasping for air while Elena got creative with her tongue, Mithian knew with absolute certainty that she had made the right call.  
_____

“Have you ever cooked Thanksgiving dinner before?” Mithian asked after watching Elena attempt to wrestle the turkey into a bucket of brine, and the turkey emerge victorious. Elena was sweating, her hair pulled up in a messy knot, and she had the same grim look of determination that she got when faced with her Aunt Grunhilda’s misguided attempts to introduce her to ‘nice young gentlemen.’ It was not a face that Mithian enjoyed seeing on her.

“I’ve watched several lifetimes worth of Food Network programming, relax, I’ve got this.” Elena said, sounding more like she was convincing herself than Mithian.

“You know, why don’t we give Freya a call,” Mithian said instead of arguing with her. “I think Freya usually helps out Lance and Gwen down at the soup kitchen on Thanksgiving, she might know a shortcut for,” she gestured at the disaster of the kitchen, “all this.”

'All This' included a mountain of potatoes, pots of various sizes scattered haphazardly across the counter, a two cutting boards strewn with the remains of vegetables and something dripping from the cabinets that Mithian thought might be chicken stock.

“Yeah, let’s call Freya,” Elena said. “She’ll know what to do.”

“I have absolutely no idea what to do,” Freya told them fifty minutes later as she stood in the middle of the kitchen with her hands on her hips like a general overlooking a battlefield.

“Gwen usually takes care of the turkeys. Lance and I get pretty squeamish around raw meat. Are you sure they don’t come with instructions?”  
Elena groaned and buried her face in the recliner.

“We’ve read a lot of conflicting reports online,” Mithian said in explanation. They’d scrolled through at least fifty different food blogs, each with instructions more ridiculous and complicated than the last. She would have called her dad and asked him for advice, but her parents had been more upset than expected about her nixing her travel plans, and figuring this out on her own had become a point of pride.

“Sorry,” Ferya said, lips pursed. “I can’t help you with the Turkey, but I’ve been told by a viable source that I do make excellent stuffing.”

“Percy doesn’t count,” said Mithian, “that man will eat whatever you put in front of him.” Not to mention that he was wrapped around Freya’s little finger. They made an adorable couple, what with Percy being the mountain of a man he was and Freya topping out at 5”4” max.

Freya laughed, “He knows which side his bread is buttered on. But I was actually talking about Viv. I made it last year for her New Year’s party, and I thought she was going to fight someone for it.”

“Vivian?” Mithian was impressed. “What do you put in your stuffing, diamonds?”

“Try artichokes, spinach and feta. Tell you what though, I’ve got all the ingredients at home, how about I run back and grab some for you.”

“And I’ll go ahead and give Gwen a call while you’re out. Thanks, Freya,” Mithian said, and gave her a quick squeeze. “You’re the best.”

“I know,” said Freya, and plunged back out into the snow.

Elena resurfaced from the chair. Her ears were pink and she stuck out hand for the phone.

“Sorry. I can call Gwen,” she said, and shuffled awkwardly.

“Elena,” Mithian started, but Elena cut her off. “The turkey was my mess, I’ll clean it up.”

Mithian handed her the phone but didn’t let go until Elena finally looked up at her.

“You know I don’t care if we eat Easy Mac for Thanksgiving, right? I just want to spend time with you.”

“I know,” Elena said quietly. “I just want to make sure we'll do this again next year, too.”  
And there was really nothing for that but to kiss her.  
____

Elena set about preparing the turkey with Gwen on speakerphone, waving a meat thermometer around while she shouted about basting and Gwen tried valiantly to course correct. Freya reappeared with ingredients for stuffing before she dashed back out again to help Lance, who seemed to be manning the soup kitchen by himself while Elena monopolized his wife.

The Macy’s parade was on in the background. The much-lauded stuffing was assembled in a pan waiting to go in after the pies Mithian already baking in the oven. The smell of pumpkin wafted over the apartment and made her nostalgic for her mother’s cooking. Mithian resolved to call them after dinner when they would too hazy from their food comas to be disappointed in her. She went and stood next to the window, watched the snow blot out the trees and streets and apartments, the clock tower and the church, the bus station and the Chinese takeout place with the broken neon sign. She watched the snow come down and thought back to telling her parents she was staying here, and she was sorry to cancel but would see them soon for Christmas. She remembered her mother asking why she wasn’t coming home, and Mithian telling her she was home. Because Elena was home. And maybe she’s been slow to figure it out, but if there was anything she was certain of it was that there would be next year, and the year after that.

They would make time for each other, they would make months and years and days.

“What are you thinking about so seriously when there are giant Pokemon balloons terrorizing the streets of New York,” Elena said as she came up behind her and circled her arms around Mithian’s waist.

Mithian turned around in her arms so that their noses were brushing. Elena arched a single eyebrow.

“I was thinking about the mountain of potatoes I’m about to peel,” she lied. “They’re pretty daunting.”

“I’ll help,” said Elena simply and took her hand, the snow falling gently on the street behind them.


End file.
